


Bad Dream

by Polii



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, im so sorry, it was late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:17:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2523716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polii/pseuds/Polii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's often that he forgets, and he can enclose himself in a world where those headlights never parted the rainfall. But remembering is always the worst part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Dream

**Author's Note:**

> So, it got sad.  
> And a little long.  
> Sorry about that.  
> I decided to tag it as a Dan/Reader because I never mention the character's name. I figure it's a little more immersive that way, hopefully it worked out. c:

Dan woke with a start, his heart beating a mile a minute, his memory, respectively, a few paces behind. He could feel the hot flashes glare in his mind, the generous flooding of light into a small space, the sound of soft bickering and the tight feel of something leather enveloped in his large palms. Most of all, he retained the sound of clashing. Steel and metal and something like a crackle, and then only heat. The heat swarmed like a metaphysical presence, a force, extracting beads of sweat from his every pore, leaving him helpless, curdling his insides. 

His eyes opened, only to be replaced with a vision of some endless void of black, with a single red light stretched out in front of him. He was confused, a little scared, and as his fingers mangled with a mess of fabric on either side of his body, he shifted uncomfortably. It was at this point the red light seemed to fade in radiance, seeming ever more irrelevant, until he realized it was only the cable box. Set in front of the TV. In their bedroom. Their bedroom. 

Dan’s pupils dilated, and as his vision adjusted to the gloom, he turned, frightfully slow, to his left. It was there that he saw a rather soft looking blob of shade, wrapped beneath covers next to him. He held his breath, until he heard a delicate pattern of gentle inhales and exhales. 

He sighed, smiling if only faintly, realizing his nightmare, but somehow forgetting whatever it had been about. Right now, the wind rolling through the open window to his right seemed to engulf him like a fog. He slumped back against the headboard, laughing a little and running a hand through his lopsided mess of hair. It was like that anytime he woke up, he tended to embrace it. As soon as he heard the body stir next to him he felt his heart skip a beat, and an overwhelming warmth (unlike the unbearable heat from his prior dream) shivered through him. He tilted his head towards the mass of shadow, a half-smile upheld on his scruffy visage. 

She rolled over, hair twisted and a little messy, blinking slowly in order to flutter the sleep from her vision. After a half a minute or so, she finally peered up at him, through her eyelashes, giving him a sleepy simper and a sigh.  
“What’s up, weirdo?” she asked, sitting up with a bit of a stutter, muscles aching.

Dan smiled. “Just a bad dream.” He stated plainly, sitting up a little, staring at her in the murk of their bedroom. The moonlight was flitting through the curtains now, so there wasn’t much he couldn’t make out, and he made an especially tactful effort to view his lover in the darkness. She wore an old shirt, one of his probably, and a pair of dotted pajama pants that he knew she wore almost every night, even if they were concealed at the moment. He just… knew. 

She proceeded to prop an elbow on her pillow, placing her cheek in her palm, staring at him in a glazed, almost dreamy way. “Well, what was it about? Couldn’t have been too spooky for Leigh Daniel Avidan.” She laid her free hand overtop the one he’d set at his side.

He looked at her, a little amused. It wasn’t often she used his full name, and when she did, like now, he usually became flustered. He wasn’t though; something about it this time was almost comforting. “I have no fucking clue, and frankly, I don’t give a shit. It’s—“ he turned to the clock on his bedside table, “—three a.m. It’s three a.m. and I’m 90% sure I’ve got some shit to do tomorrow.” He stopped himself. “What’s tomorrow?”

She sighed, smiling tiredly, her shrug close to unnoticeable. “Fuck if I know, I feel like I’m drunk. But like, hungover at the same time. Is that a thing?” she asked, beginning to ramble.

Dan smiled. “Only if it’s three a.m. and you went to bed at two.” She always slept at odd hours, it was one of the things he’d learned to accept as a quirk; he wasn’t all that much better. 

She smirked. “Shut up, you fucking nerd.” 

“Make me, asshole.” He said playfully, moving quickly in order to straddle her hips, hands holding hers against either side of her head. She laughed and struggled gently. At some point the essence of commotion flickered out, without much notice to the couple, and before he could even think about it, Dan’s lips traced the movements of her own. She smelled like a fucking strawberry; it was her shampoo, and every time she’d run out he’d feel almost disappointed. It felt like a trademark. There was something endearing about it, and he was pretty sure it was simply the fact that she used it. 

He kissed her again, a little harder, fingers tightening their lace with her own, like he was afraid she’d let go. Eventually, he moved away, eyes taking a minute to flutter open as he inhaled. She looked breathless beneath him, perhaps embarrassed. As he held a small strain of eye contact, he suddenly leaned forward, eyes closed again, touching his forehead to her own and noticing she was oddly cold. He paid no mind, and instead listened to the blood rushing in his ears, and felt his heart beating in his fingertips while he held her hand. Despite his bliss, a feeling of disruptive sadness swerved through his subconscious, worming a funnel of worry, and creating a crease in his brow. 

He moved back up again, opening his eyes in a way that suggested he thought he might not see her there. She maintained that same, peaceful, smile, entranced by his features, one of her hands slipping out of his own to run fingers through his tangles of hair. The melancholies seemed to burn away, a pile of ashes at the back of his mind as he took in her image. 

He parted his lips. “I love you so fucking much.” He said blithely, a tinge of wistfulness to his tone. She smiled, revealing a set of dainty white teeth to the moonlight.

Her hand moved from his hair, down to cradle his face, running along his stubble, fingers growing itchy; she didn’t seem to mind. “I love you too. Like, a shitload.” She asserted, breaking into a bit of a light yawn near the end. He cracked a small smile, feeling some short burst of release flow with her words. Dan rolled onto his side and looked at her through half-drawn eyes, as she turned too, moving closer to him and moving her head into his chest. His arm reached over her torso, pulling her towards him as a sort of shallow silence settled overtop, folding like a blanket over any unease that might have disturbed Dan’s psyche. As he felt her legs move against his own, and her breathing puncture his chest at odd intervals, the earth felt still, like they were the only two lives, detached from watches and alarm clocks. He hated to think it, for fear of sounding cliché, but it was almost like floating. 

“It’s not your fault, Dan.” she said, downcast.

His sadness emerged like a wave, and he was overwhelmingly confused as to why. Dan’s eyes opened, peering down at her head tucked against his chest. Headlights passing by the window illuminated their conjoined shadow, across the wall of faded purple where Dan glanced.

_“What?”_

 

The sound of his alarm beat his eardrums mercilessly, fading in echoes and emitting a dizzy flourish across his gaze. He felt so heavy, his arms slumped like rocks, one by his side and one hanging lazily over his stomach. He was disoriented, and somehow his shirt felt too tight.

He groaned, noting that, with his alarm, his phone rang alongside it, the muted beat of whatever ringtone Ross had set it to recently fragmented through the glare.

He clicked off the alarm, misinterpreting his aim the first time before finally ceasing the noise. He proceeded to let the phone ring, taking a glance at the clock again to confirm it was really 7am. He turned back to face the end of his bed, teetering between falling back to sleep and calling back whoever had just reached his voicemail.  
Dan leaned over in order to fetch his phone, accidentally pulling the charger out of the socket along with it. He cursed under his breath, but swept it off and look at the missed call. 

Arin. He shot him a text, apologizing, assuring him he’d call him back in a minute. Once that was done, he placed the phone beside him on the bed. He stacked his elbows on his knees, running both hands through his hair before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the ball of his right palm. It was at this point he noticed the squirming pain in his torso as he bent forward, and he laid a hand on his stomach; but he couldn’t look away from the wallpaper.

It was white.

Why was the wallpaper white.

The wallpaper was supposed to be a faint purple, with faded caricatures of orchids along the top.

His thoughts came to a standstill. And he remembered again. 

He felt like crumpling from the inside out, and as he shifted his gaze to the empty space beside him, in the room that settled in the apartment he and Barry shared once more, he came to that edge again, just like so many months ago. 

_“Fuck.”_

It was all he could really think to say. In that breathy, defeated, exhausted way, it just couldn’t really be anything else. And as one hand rummaged the covers beside him, and the other stayed clutching strands of his hair, his heart sank to a level he’d known almost every morning this week. It was like he was realizing it all over again, and that’s what it felt like; and it made the butterflies in his stomach drop like weathered stones. He knew why he hurt all over, he knew why he missed her so goddamn much, he knew why he was about to fucking cry again, and he remembered why he felt so alone all of a sudden. 

He started to think about the rain again, and the road, before his ringtone knocked and swayed him toward an intervention. He held his head, staring at the phone, watching it vibrate against his outer thigh, feeling numb. He didn’t know why he picked it up, but he did, and his friend’s voice sounded round. Before he could say anything, Arin was already talking.

“Hey dude, um… I’m sorry, I know you said you were going to call back, I just… I don’t know, never mind, it’s dumb. Is everything okay?” Arin’s voice sounded much softer than usual. Although, it had been that way since it happened; that tone of faint, ever-existing sympathy, and the presence of a gravelly road map that planned out the avoidance of emotional landmines with who he was conversing. Dan noticed. 

If Arin or Suzy couldn’t get a hold of Dan at a moment’s notice, they’d call Barry, and ask him to stop by his room, or barrage his cellphone with concerned text messages if he was out. They didn’t have anything to worry about, Dan knew that, and maybe Arin just cared too much, but it was something that brought him comfort somehow. To know they were still there. 

Dan gave out a breath, staring at the wall again. “Yeah, man, everything’s alright.” He said, switching the phone to his other hand. He looked down after catching a glimpse of plaid. He’d fallen asleep in yesterday’s clothes again. Arin seemed to pause, so Dan continued. “What’s up?” he asked, his tone sounding depleted. 

Arin smiled weakly on the other end of the phone. “I was, uh, just wondering if you still wanted to do that grump session today. I mean, if it’s too—“ Dan’s sigh cut him off.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning forward. He’d completely forgotten he’d promised to do this for Arin today. It had been so long. 

Arin was silent on the other end, waiting for Dan to say something. He waited about 10 seconds, parting his lips before Dan finally spoke up. “I’m sorry, Arin.” He frowned simply, phone close to his mouth, his face buried in his other hand. 

“Oh,” Arin said.

Dan took a sharp breath. “I’m so fucking sorry, could, um, could Ross maybe sit in for a couple episodes? What about Suzy? Everyone would lov—“

“Dan.” Arin stopped him, voice solid. “It’s okay,” he assured him, shifting in his seat to look at Suzy as she walked into the room. She looked at him hopefully, and he gave her a small smile. “You don’t have to apologize, man… really. I know.” 

Dan frowned, leaning so his head fell back on a wrinkled pillow. “Okay. Sorry.” He said again. For a moment he wanted to tell Arin that he didn’t know. That he had no fucking idea. He stopped and decided that was completely irrelevant.

Arin exhaled. “Stop saying that.”

“Sorry.” Dan replied, close to laughing a little. Arin smiled, but it was one that was borderline melancholy as he listened to the sound of his friend’s voice. He’d have to tell Brian to cancel stopping by to see Dan.

The line remained silent for a moment, before Arin spoke again. “Hey, Dan.” He said lowly, watching Suzy walk into the other room.

Dan’s small smile faded back into a neutral expression. “Yeah?” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Arin said, both hands on the cellphone between his palms. Dan remained silent, feeling a sting, continuing to stare at the wall. Arin sighed. “I know I’ve said it a thousand times now, but it wasn’t, Dan. You can’t hide and blame yourself for something that was completely out of your control. You’ve gotta believe me, man.” Arin rested the phone against his ear, waiting for Dan to find his voice. He hoped this wouldn’t play out like every time before. 

Dan sat. And instead of answering, he remembered. He remembered how rainy it was, and how he was angry at her, and how she was bitter with him. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember where they were coming from, or where they were going, or what they were arguing about; he just remembered it was so irrelevant. So fucking irrelevant. He remembered telling her she was un-fucking-believable. He remembered her telling him he was being an asshole. He remembered slowing at the stop sign, and then advancing. And then he remembered the last thing he said to her; “Fucking Christ, look at this rain.”  
What he wouldn’t give to have said something he could look back on and smile at. Something heartfelt, or gushy, something more clichéd than anything any romance had dared before. But he hadn’t. He’d talked about the fucking weather.  
Maybe if he hadn’t been angry they wouldn’t have left wherever they were coming from so early, maybe if he’d been more patient there wouldn’t have been a fight in the first place, they wouldn’t have left. Hypotheticals mutilated his psyche.

And then, dear god, did he remember the sounds, and the light, and the heat, as that fucking evil piece of shit ran through the sign. Straight into the passenger’s side, rolling the car; crushing her.

It wasn’t like in the movies. He didn’t get to see the light fade from her eyes, and kiss her in the rain in the last moments she could feel his lips. No, he’d passed out, woken in a white, beeping room, and hours later, a stranger, a complete fucking _stranger_ , had to tell him what had happened. And a complete stranger told him his lover had died upon the ambulance’s arrival.  
Then he, in turn, had to work through choking over the phone with her parents, her friends. Every single person that cared about her, he had to repeat the same thing over and over again. He had to listen to them cry, or thank him, or apologize, sometimes a mixture of the three, one after the other; and after every phone call he'd take a generous swig from some miscellaneous brand liquor he'd found stowed under the sink. 

Arin began to grow worried with the continued silence from the other end, and considered calling Barry after he hung up, before he left. “Dan.” Arin said again, more firmly this time. 

Dan blinked fast, drying the thin line of water that formed beneath his eyes before any of it could leak, wiping his face with his sleeve. 

“Sorry, just phased out for a second.” Dan reassured him, rolling onto his side with the phone still in his hand. He forced that natural sound into his tone, and he figured it sounded almost legitimate. 

Arin’s short breath signified some sense of relief once he heard Dan speak again. Suzy walked back into the room with Mochi in her arms, standing near the archway of the door. Arin gave her a thumbs up, and made a motion that suggested he’d let her know what was going on in a little while.

Arin smiled. “So, you’re okay?” he asked again.

Dan nodded, even if Arin couldn’t see. He knew what Arin meant when he asked that. “Yeah, I’m good,” he exhaled, “might step out for lunch or something later.”

“Yeah, you should do that. Just…” Arin was looking for a way to word it. “Just don’t push yourself too hard.” He said calmly, smiling into the phone. 

“I know.” Dan replied. “I’ll see you later, okay dude? I’m tired as fuck.”

“I didn’t know fuck was tired.” Arin said. 

Dan laughed, if only a little. “Tired of your bullshit.”

“Fair.” Arin agreed. 

Just as Dan was about to hang up, he stopped him. “Wait, Dan?”

Dan sighed, pushing the phone back against his ear. “Yes, Arin?”

“You heard what I said, right?” Arin said.

Dan switched his phone to his other hand again. “Yeah.”

“She’d never blame you.” Arin continued. Somehow that simple sentence made Dan’s throat tighten. “She’d probably punch you in the dick for blaming yourself.”

Dan sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Sure,” he said, “I know.”

Arin smiled, satisfied. This seemed like progress, no matter how small of an advancement. This was the first time he’d gotten him to agree without a struggle and an obviously faked reassurance. In fact, this was probably the smoothest Arin’s pep talks had ever gone. There was one particularly bad period, about a week or so after Dan’s release from the hospital, where the whole thing had ended with Dan hyperventilating and on the edge of passing out. That one had been face to face, with Suzy standing in as an unwilling and reluctant mediator. She’d been so scared for him.  
Arin was always worried.  
“Okay. Hey, I’ll see you soon, alright? Me and Suzy were thinking about stopping by tomorrow, there’s not much going on.” Arin suggested hopefully.  
Dan smiled a little. “Yeah, sure. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you then.”

When they both finally said goodbye and hung up, it was silent again. Dan wasn’t really sure where to go from there. He felt lighter, if only a trace, and he found his feet on the ground beside the bed.

He didn’t bother to change, and he barely glanced in the mirror before finding his way into the kitchen, along with a stomach that growled for something besides cereal and protein bars.

A few moments after he’d begun to rummage through the fridge, Barry appeared in the archway, car keys in hand. Dan turned around to face him at the jingle of the metal.

“Not going to Arin’s today?” Barry asked simply, looking at him with a small smile.

“Oh, uh, no, not today.” Danny said, stuttering a little.

“Well,” Barry started, moving towards the front door, “I was going out to get Subway or something. Did you, y’know, wanna tag along or…?”

Dan smiled, something a little wistful, yet contented. “Sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, dude. That ending was weird. I'm just gonna go ahead and say it was supposed to signify recovery. Because friendship and sandwiches.  
> I apologize thoroughly.


End file.
